


The Great Plan

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Established Relationship, I'm pretty proud of the ending tbh, M/M, SO FLUFFY, proposal, slight angst but I think the ending makes up for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 05:42:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6503146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock keeps John busy with a series of cases, all ending in one big question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Great Plan

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by something discussed at @softsons and @martinfreemen's livestream last night! This isn't exactly like what you talked about, but I think it's still pretty fluffy :)
> 
> The cases in this are loosely based off of The Boscombe Valley Mystery, The Copper Beeches, and The Noble Bachelor.

"John! John, wake up!" John felt someone grip his shoulders and shake him gently.

"Mmmphhh?" He responded, rolling over to look into the verdigris eyes that were only inches away from his own.

"Lestrade called about a case, we need to get over there as soon as possible," Sherlock explained, straightening up and pulling out his phone. "Get dressed, I'll get a cab."

As John crawled out of bed, he noticed the blinking alarm clock on his bedside table. It wasn't unusual for Sherlock to go nights without sleep and be up and about at all hours of the night, but they weren't on a case, so what was he doing up at -

"2 AM!" John cried. Sherlock glanced up from the phone and cocked his eyebrow. "Sherlock, what is this all about?" They stood there staring at each other, John frowning slightly and Sherlock now looking a bit nervous, for a good thirty seconds before Sherlock cleared his throat and left the room, his coat swishing along behind him.

* * *

"Right. So. The man was found dead by the pool with obvious signs of being beaten with a heavy weapon. Several people saw his son following him there with a gun in his hands, so we were thinking that the wounds could be from the butt of the gun. However, the son pleads innocent and says that his father was injured before he arrived at the pool. What can you get from that?" Lestrade asked, his mouth twitching into a smirk.

"Oh, everything," Sherlock responded, tugging on his gloves. Within a few moments they were all moving around the crime scene, inspecting anything that was there to inspect and trying not to damage the area. John was moving along the edges of the valley when he spotted something behind a tree that made him stop.

"Sherlock," he called, bending to pick up the object. In his hand he now held an Indian cigar which was partly smoked.

"Ah," said Sherlock, tucking his chin into the crook of John's neck. "Very helpful, love. Can't believe I didn't see it myself." He took the cigar from John's hands and with a swift kiss on the cheek, he was gone. Actually, John couldn't believe it either. Sherlock would normally have found something that in a matter of seconds. Why was this case, and John's involvement in it, so vital? As he glanced over his shoulder at the curly haired nerd, John accepted yet another mystery of Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

There was a client. Of course there was a client. Sherlock and John had gotten a cab after solving the case (the murderer was the victim's old friend from Australia, obviously) but weren't even halfway home when Sherlock got a text and, after reading it, announced that they must change their route and go to see a client.

"Sherlock, it is now 5 AM and I've barely gotten any sleep. Can't we go see them tomorrow?" John complained as Sherlock instructed the cabbie to their new destination. "We never go to see clients anyway. They come to us. What's this about, Sherlock?"

"I've already seen the client," Sherlock argued, not looking John in the eyes. "We need to go and see her at her place of work immediately. I am afraid this cannot wait."

"Sherlock," John said more quietly, reaching for his lover's hand. "If something is wrong you can tell me." Sherlock's face softened a bit, but only for a moment.

"Everything is perfectly fine," he assured John as the cab stopped in front of the Black Swan Hotel. He pushed open the door and walked quickly towards the building, and away from John.

* * *

Miss Violet Hunter looked more sane than John would have expected, considering the circumstances. They _had_ just been almost attacked by a mad man and watched him then be killed by his own dog. But then again, Miss Violet Hunter was a most extraordinary woman.

"Honestly, you should've just asked me," Mrs. Toller, the maid, tutted. "I could've saved you a fair amount of time."

"We are thankful to you, our own delay to question you aside." John stuck out a hand for the maid to shake. She accepted it with a grin as Sherlock walked over to them, wrapping his arms around John's waist.

"And of course we wouldn't have made it out of there at all if John hadn't had his gun ready on Mr. Rucastle when he came up the stairs to, most likely, imprison us as well," he praised, burying his nose in John's hair. John couldn't help but smile at this. It wasn't that he didn't like this appreciation, it was that it was so unexpected and out of the ordinary. He was still slightly suspicious of Sherlock's motives, but if this was the result he wasn't going to question it too much.

"Well," said John, clearing his throat, "We'd better be off. Y'know, breakfast and the like. Sleep."

Sherlock's phone beeped. Looking down at whatever the message was that he'd received with a frown, Sherlock untangled himself from John and moved to the doorway.

"Actually, no, we've got another case at the Yard. Lestrade's on this one, too."

"Are you serious?" John asked. "How's he already got another case since the pool? Hasn't he still got to file that one?"

"Got Donovan on the filing, I'd imagine. Oh, you know criminals - they don't wait until your schedule's freed up to strike." Sherlock winked and hurried outside to get a cab. 

"But if Lestrade's got it covered why do we have to go already?" John objected, running after his very problematic fave. "Sherlock, you've had me up since 2 and it's 7 now! Sherlock!" 

* * *

The case that they were called to the Yard for turned out to be a fairly mundane one, at least compared to their two previous adventures in the last five hours. It was simply a missing persons case, a bride who ran away, the only really intriguing detail being that she did so after the ceremony rather than before. This was something Sherlock would have normally been able to solve almost immediately upon hearing the full story, yet he seemed to be...waiting for something. Everyone else was discussing the clues and how they might add up to find the missing bride while Sherlock simply stood there, staring at John in a thoughtful silence. 

"There was a note in the pocket of the bride's dress," offered Lestrade, extracting the item from his own pocket. "You will see me when all is ready. Come at once, F. H. M. Seems pretty solid evidence against the maid, don't you think? Her name is Flora Millar."

Sherlock bit his lip now, still staring at John but now with a look of pleading impatience in his eyes.

"Not...not necessarily," began John, glancing at Sherlock to check for any indication that he was on the right train of thought. "We don't know that her middle initial is an H. That makes all the difference."

"Precisely!" Sherlock shouted, finally unfreezing and nearly giving everyone a heart attack. "Absolutely brilliant John, if I do say so myself. Now with this important piece of evidence I can see that it may very well have not been the maid, but the bride's previous husband from her time spent in America. As he goes by the name of Francis Hay Moulton, I do believe you have found your culprit, and of course without John's extraordinary powers of observation I would never have reached such a conclusion. Good day, Scotland Yard." And with that he dashed away yet again.

John, who was at this point particularly red in the face, stopped to quickly clear some things up before going after Sherlock, who had already gotten a cab and was waiting for John.

* * *

The ride home was silent, and much to John's (pleasant) surprise, without interruption. As he opened the door of 221B, Sherlock intertwined John's fingers with his own and pulled him through the doorway and into a kiss.

"What has all of this been about? Please, Sherlock, just tell me. I won't let up until you do," John breathed, their foreheads pressed together.

"Come into the kitchen," Sherlock responded, turning away but not letting go of John's hand.

When they reached the kitchen John could see that it had been thoroughly cleaned and that an absolutely delicious looking breakfast had been laid out for the two of them. Of course, this was why Sherlock kept him out for so long. John was impressed that it had taken anyone less than a week to make the kitchen as spotless as it seemed to be now. Speaking of that, who had done this? Who -

"Mrs. Hudson," John sighed. Of course.

"I asked her to call Lestrade - you know how she likes to talk, I don't have time for that," Sherlock explained, wrapping his arms around John. "That's what the texts were, him telling me to keep you out a bit longer. Cleaning up this place is no easy job."

"Yeah, I'm aware," John teased. "What was with you being so sweet at the pool and the house? And giving me so much credit at the Yard?"

"I'm always sweet to you!" Sherlock laughed. John shot him a Look and he grinned. "I just wanted to show you how smart you are. How important and valuable you are to me."

John couldn't think what to say to this, and as he was already tearing up at this grand gesture he decided to just kiss Sherlock so he would shut up.

"Wait, I haven't even asked you yet!" Sherlock said, looking confused.

"What?" John started, even more confused.

"Oh, have I just gone and messed it all up, I - hell, no good in putting it off now," Sherlock stuttered, moving away from John and getting down on one knee.

"Oh...my god..." John breathed. Wait, no, scratch that, he'd forgotten how to breathe. He'd forgotten how to do anything because _oh my god is this actually happening right now?!?!?!?_

"I love you, John Watson. I am totally, completely, ineffably in love with you, and I want to spend the rest of my life being in love with you. So..." he reached into his pocket and extracted a velvet ring box, "Will you marry me?"

At this point there were tears streaming down John's cheeks as he raised his hands to his mouth, nodding furiously. Seeing John's tears, Sherlock frowned.

"Not good?"

John pulled Sherlock to his feet and kissed him hard, trying to communicate all of what he was feeling through that kiss. But, he thought as they broke apart, maybe he should say just one thing.

"Perfect."


End file.
